Fate was in my Favor
by In Love with the Stars
Summary: What would have happened if Katniss had been in love with the boy with the bread all along?
1. Prolouge

_ Dad! _I scream in my head as I roam the raining streets of District 12. The real voices calling to me on the surface seem thousands of miles away. _Dad, where are you? _Death has never seemed like such a great idea until this moment. My growling stomach reminds me of the obvious: you will die. So will your sister. And your mother. And there is nothing you can do. Shadows and shiluottes and bodies brush past me, all fading into the scenery of the bustling streets. Slowly, they all go away. At least, I don't notice them anymore. How long have I been out here? Time ceases to exist at this point. Only in the cruelest way: _tick, tock, tick, tock. Your family is dying by the second. _I know I should head home. My clothes hang heavily, soaked, over my tiny frame, covering the spots where bone protrudes. Even the universe is miserable, I notice, as the shaking trees and rain color the world in a shade of gray. Except, the universe is strong. Nature will survive the storm. Me, I am not so sure.

All a sudden, the song Dad always sang to me pulses violently in my ears: _Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Wear a rope of neckalace, side by side with me. _The words used to have innocent, empty meaning. Now, they are threats, running through my brain and giving me a headache. No matter what I do, they will not go away. As my own death approaches me, they sing louder.

"Food," I growl lightly, the soft words catching in my throat. Slushing through the rain, I bite my lip as I pass the Mellarks' bakery. Sometimes, you can find tiny bits of food in the trash. The smell of bread fills my nose as I look in the black can. Empty. Slouching, I just stare, tears filling my eyes. I cannot bear to look away. This was my last hope. Now, my beautiful sister will die. _Not Prim! _I think, not sure who to. My heart hammers in my chest. _Anyone but her. If anyone deserves to live, it's her. _No one answers. It really makes me realize how alone I am here.

_Are you, are you,_

_coming to the tree..._

"YOU!" I hear, and I quickly look up. Mrs. Mellark glares at me, her eyes black, her voice shrill. "GET AWAY, YOU SEAM RAT. DON'T MAKE ME CALL THE PEACE KEEPERS." With that, she points at me with one last warning and slams the door behind her.

Deflated, I find a spot under a nearby tree and put my head between my knees. Mrs. Mellark is infamous for her hate of Seam kids. It's funny how she has such a nice husband and kids, but her own evil ways sort of give the family a bad name. I shake her out of my mind.

I know Mrs. Mellark will be pissed if she finds me here, but I cannot will myself to move. What am I supposed to do? Go home and watch my family die? I am not that strong. In fact, I'm doubting at this point that I'm even strong at all. I'm all skin, bones and pale flesh. Even my mental strength is in question, as I sit up and look into empty space, picturing my Dad. My blue lips move to whisper to him. "Dad, I'm scared," I say, still trying to picture him there. Taking a deep breath, I angle myself so my twitching side is supported by the rough bark. I tangle my fingers on my lap and everything hurts. Swirling gray clouds continue to look like veils in the sky. "Please help me. Please."

And that's when I see Peeta Mellark.

He walks quietly out of the bakery, his head hung low. His mother comes back out, making me suck in a breath. But she isn't looking at me. Her son is the object of her anger, as she stands before him, shaking. Three loaves of bread are cradled in his muscular arms as she shouts in his face. Her words are hard to make out as pounding rain continues to fall outside. "Burnt bread... idiot boy..." All a sudden, she yanks him inside. And I hear her motion her hand. I hear him shriek.

This is the first time I have ever felt the need to protect the boy with the bread.

Blood boils in my ears as I see him come outside, alone this time. Red marks cover his face. She hit him, now I know for sure. He tosses a black loaf to the pigs. Then, in a quick motion, he checks his window, almost to make sure his mother isn't looking. Then, all a sudden, everything changes.

It was like a star was falling through space, crashing onto the earth and lighting the world with beauty. Every cliche became true as he throws two loaves in my direction, no eye contact, and leaves as quickly as he came. It overwhelms me: his selflessness, his bravery, his kindness. Everything about him weighs heavily in my heart as I put the loaves up my shirt and head home.

I have never been so sure of anything. I am in love with the boy with the bread.


	2. Four Years Later

Four years later, I'm slamming the door to my family's little shack and stepping out into the bright sunlight of the town. "Gale!" I scream, trying to locate my best friend in the daily madness. Walking down the road, I push past others and find myself in town. I'm just about to give up as my friend Madge waves me over.

"Katniss!" she calls. I grin and run over to her, greeting her with a tight embrace.

Madge and I have become pretty good friends. Despite our different classes, both of us aren't good at socializing, so naturally we fell together as a result of years of branching away from everyone else. She's wearing a pretty blue dress and even some lipstick, a luxury that some of the townies could afford.

"I'm guessing Gale is around here somewhere?" I smirk, gesturing her dress. Blushing, she looks at her feet and then at me.

"Shut up," she says, playfully, her lips curling into a sweet smile. She and Gale have been dating for months. They're both crazy about each other. It's an odd pairing, sure, but it works. Pushing my braid behind my shoulders, I step back and survey her in better lighting. Her skin looks soft, her hair is more curly than usual (she slept in wet braids, a trick I taught her) and her movements are light and graceful. Yes. Definitely Gale. I grin and make sloppy kissing sounds.

"Gale and Madge sitting in a treeee..." I sing even louder when she cringes. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" She smacks me across the arm. I double over in laughter, barely able to contain myself as Gale walks over and puts his arm around her.

"Hey, no jokes," he warns me, pulling me into a hug. "Hey Katniss," he adds, stepping back and running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey, Mr. Undersee," I tease, my stomach still in pain after all the laughter. "Based on the fact you guys are both dressed up, I take it we're not hunting today?"

Gale feigns amazement. "She has a good eye, doesn't she, Madge?" Madge plays along, wrapping her fingers around his waist.

"I swear, she's a genius," she adds, looking me up and down. "And by the way, just because Gale and I are going out does not give you permission to find new friends, mmm kay?"

I shrug. "I don't know, man. There are some really cool people that would understand my distaste of you weird individuals." Then, I give her two air kisses and mimick a capitol accent. "Farewell, my dearies! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

Striding off, I stare at children playing hopscotch on the streets. I pay attention to every little detail, because it's hard being in the town. I feel every eye on me, a "seam rat." Not that I actually give a crap about anyone's judgement (because I don't.) Still, forcing my way through a sea of townies is pretty challenging. I brave it out, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

The worst part is getting past the Mellarks' bakery. Only, over the course of four years, it's no longer because of Mrs. Mellark, it's because of my fear of encountering her blonde haired, blue-eyed son, the son I fell in love with.  
We haven't spoken once. The day after the incident, I caught his eye in the hallway, but I quickly broke his gaze and looked down. There's so much I want to say to him. I just don't don't know how to say it.

Dad knew millions of songs. Funny songs, cruel songs, heartbreak songs, love songs. He jotted every single one down in a notebook, filled with lined pages. He never wrote down where he got them from, and, as I got older, flipping through pages of his messy handwriting, I realized that maybe he made up some of them himself.

As I walk past the busy bakery, I distract myself by letting the lyrics run through my head:

_Sometimes in life you just have to go on_

_Turn the tables, light the fires_

_learn to be strong_

As my feet have finally taken me away from his house, I relax. I then huff and climb onto my bed, ready to sleep. Then I remember it's twelve noon and I have a full day ahead of me. Now what?

My feet drag me towards the bathroom, and I take a warm bath. I simply make the water warm by slightly boiling it under a fire, a method used by those who can't afford the luxury of warm water (or a shower, for that matter.) The trick is, you "boil" it, until the point where it's comfortably warm, then dump it in a bath. My toes curl as I close my eyes and dream of Peeta, my lips forming his name.

Two hours later, I drain the bath, throw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and walk outside. The sunlight is blinding, and I have a sudden crave to see him. I carefully make my way downtown, staring at the bakery from a distance. I don't see him. Part of me is relieved, but part of me just sort of aches. Then, I stomp into the woods, hunt three squirrels, and open the door to the bakery. My body is jolting with nervous energy as I walk across the smooth floors. His brother stands behind the counter, grinning as I approach him.

"Hey, Katniss!" he yells loudly.

"Hey," I respond, arching my eyebrows. "What's with the volume?"

"Oh, nothing. Just trying to get Peeta's attention."

_Why would saying my name get Peeta's attention?_

"Is your dad home? I wanted to trade my squirrels," I say, gesturing my game bag that's slung over my shoulder.

"Oh, he's not home. Peeta! Can you come down here? Katniss wants to trade and Father is not home!"

Oh, God.

Peeta runs downstairs, and everywhere my body tingles. He smooths down his hair an adjusts his apron, taking a second to glare at his brother before facing me. "Hey, Katniss," he says, warmly, his blue eyes meeting mine.

"Hey," I say, casually as possible. I pray that I don't mess this up. "So, your father and I usually trade, and I was-"

"I have authorization to trade, don't worry. What does he give you for your squirrels?" he asks. His eyes haven't left mine.

After I trade in my squirrels, I throw the loaves in my bag and study him for a second. Then, I form a little smile with my lips and say, "Bye Peeta. And thanks."

"Any time, Katniss," he responds, locking his eyes in mine and waving. I wave back, and force myself out of the bakery.

I'm not good at this. Friendship, relationships. The idea of love somehow exists in my heart, but battles for space in my brain. I can't make sense of it, I can't place this longing I have to spend my time wrapped in the arms of the boy with the bread. I make my way home, knowing he'll be in my dreams tonight.


	3. Thank you Gale and Madge

On Monday morning, I wake up with a headache. I try to convince my mom that I should stay home tucked in the warm blankets that my bed provides, but she won't have it. She says that she wants me to be _productive, _to be _shaped as an individual_, and after ten minutes of her self-actualization speech I tell her I get her point. When really, listening to this garbage is making my head pound even harder.

Prim is softly dozing with Buttercup at her side. Her blonde locks are spread about her pillow, and her cheeks are pink and healthy. I can't help but envy how beautiful she is, how delicate she is. No doubt she will be the object of every boy's affection when she gets older. I have no doubt in my mind she'll have trouble finding a boyfriend. That is, if she wants one. Though I'm not sure a guy that deserves Prim could possibly exist.

Padding across the carpet, I scoop Buttercup in my arms and ignore the _hissss _that comes out of the damned cat's mouth. In all honesty, I hate that stupid cat more than anything, but if Prim somehow loves it, I'll get over it. After delivering Buttercup to the safety of the couch, I make my way to the small kitchen and start breakfast.

I slice one of the loaves Peeta gave me yesterday into six pieces and spread them all with a little butter. I find Prim's milk supply and pour three glasses. Once this preparation is done, I call everyone to the kitchen.

Mom is the first to arrive. Her eyes normally look hollow, but they somehow sparkle with the realization that she was able to annoy me to death with a few comments. She doesn't usually act like such a parent. Usually, she is extremely grave and serious. I guess she's in a good mood.

Prim follows closely behind, still completely disheveled from sleep. Taking her place next to me, she grabs a slice of bread off her blue plate and takes a bite. She grins.

"Katniss, are you excited for school?"

I roll my eyes. "Little duck, that is the one question the answer will always be _no _to." She smiles at my response.

"What about you, little duck?" I ask her.

"I like school," Prim smiles, taking a sip of her milk. This does not surprise me. Prim obviously has a lot of friends. I can't help but realize that we're complete oppisotes.

After breakfest, we primp for school. Well, Prim is the only one who primps. I simply brush my hair and pull on a clean dress. I quickly braid my hair and meet Prim by the front door, so we can walk to school.

Once Prim is dropped at the lower floor, I make my way up to my class, which is already full of screaming kids. _Shut up, _my headache and I both beg as I take my seat, searching for Gale and Madge. Neither of them are here. Why aren't either of them here? This makes no-

"Ok, class!" our homeroom teacher, Mrs. Harris, says. Ugh, I knew it. Gale and Madge probably ditched. This irritates me because one, they're leaving me out, and two, they could have at least warned me. Now, I'll have no one to sit with at lunch. Well, this sucks.

"I have great news!" _Shut up. _"Today is..." she holds for a dramatic pause. Oh God, what could her surprise be? The amount of sarcastic thoughts I'm having are overwhelming.

_Drumroll, please..._

"Today is the day we have class outside!" she says. Everyone cheers. Me, I slouch and put my head on my desk. I am not cheering. When a teacher says "class outside" it basically means an all day reccess, a highschool version of reccess, if you will. So, basically, everyone will gossip and have fun and I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over. Oh, but it will never be over.

I sigh and go outside with the rest of the kids, who are already running out to the grass and claiming their territory. I stand awkwardly on the side, not quite sure what to do. I promise myself I'll kill my friends later.

"Katniss!" I hear. I almost jump. Who's calling me? I finally locate Delly Cartwright, who is sitting with no other than a few other kids and Peeta Mellark. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this?

"Hey!" I call back, my feet firm on the ground. "What's up?" I can't deal with all the emotions I'm having right now. Most of them fall between fear and embarassment, and I am in no shape to deal with my emotions. I never have been.

"Wanna sit over here?" she calls at me. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Today is monday. I outline these simple truths to try to clear my head as I force myself near their group, settling in a space as far away from Peeta as possible.

"Where are Gale and Madge?" Delly asks, flicking her hair and tearing at the grass.

"That's what I want to know," I say, trying to keep my voice leveled as possible. "But if I know them, I'm guessing they ditched."

"Wow," some brunette says, next to Delly. I think her name is Karen. I can't believe people are actual amazed at my friends. My friends, yeah, they are _such_ badasses.

"They're not that impressive," I reply, hugging my knees to my chest. Delly shrugs, laughing.

"I always thought Gale was pretty impressive," she says. Karen blurts out, "Gale is so hot!" the other girls sigh in agreement, while the boys look jealous. I don't catch Peeta's reaction.

"Not really," I say, honestly. Everyone gapes at me with shock. I always get this reaction when I show any disinterest in Gale. I shrug. "I mean, he's okay. Madge is clearly sees something , though," I grin, hoping that was an appropriate comment. Socializing is not my expertise.

I'm surprised when Peeta speaks up. "He's a great hunter," he looks at me. We might just have our first real conversation.

"Yeah, but he sucks at the bow and arrow," I laugh, straightening my spine. Peeta laughs, too.

"You've always seemed to have the better shot," he agrees. Something warm floods inside my stomach, and I hope I don't look shaken.

All a sudden, everyone but Peeta gets up. "We're going to go join that relay race," Delly explains. I find myself staring at a long line of kids juggling water on their heads. I almost groan. This really has become recess.

"I'm going to sit this one out. I'm a slow runner," he offers. I just shrug. "Same," I say. When they all walk away, I speak up. "I just didn't want to," I say.

"Me neither," he agrees, moving closer to me. "I guess it's just me and you, huh?" he says. I nod.

The hours go by, and we talk. It's awkward at first, but then we slowly fall into the relaxed pattern of conversation. It's funny. I thought I was in love before. Is there a point beyond in love? Because everything he spoke I fell harder for him. Family jokes, laughter, sweetness all spilled from his lips. I know his favorite color, his brothers' names, his hobbies. He knows mine. He even laughs at my tragedy of living with Buttercup the cat.

All a sudden, the bell rings. I don't want to leave. He smiles. "Do you want to hang out after school tomorrow?"

_ Thank you, Gale and Madge._


	4. A Small Gathering

That afternoon, I go straight to Madge's house.

Of course, I have to wait. Finally, I see her kiss Gale on the cheek and run towards me, her hair flapping in the mind. A grin stretches from ear to ear. "Hey, Katniss," she greets me, smirking.

"Hey, my no longer best friend. Why didn't you tell me you ditched? I mean, it's understandable you wanted time alone with Gale, but couldn't you of warned me so I didn't have to go to school with no friends and embarass myself?"

It takes her a second to digest all of my complaints, and then, she bites her lip. "I'm sorry."

Sighing, I grab her hand and pull her in a secluded corner. "I have so much to tell you, Madge." Madge and I rarely discuss Peeta for a variety of reasons. One, Gale is often around. Two, it's hard to find anywhere to talk privately. Three, I am pretty sensitive about it, so it's rare that I let her in.

Her eyes widen. "What?" she says. Her voice is pretty loud, and several heads turn our way. "Sorry," she says, clearing her throat. "What?" she asks again, softer this time.

"Let's have a gathering," I say. A "gathering" is basically when Madge and I go to the lake by ourselves and swim and sometimes have a sleepover in the cabin. We started the ritual when we first became close friends. We only have one when something big happens, usually: Madge and Gale start dating, Peeta and I are talking. Sometimes, though, we'll go just to take a break from the annoying world that is Panem.

We pace into the woods. After about a mile, we find the lake. I dip my toes in and she sits across from me, her eyes begging for information.

"We had like, an actual conversation today, Peeta and I," I tell her, the soft water rushing between my toes. "We talked for hours, and-"

"Hours?" she asks, shocked. I nod.

"Then, he asked me to hang out tomorrow after school. Does that mean...?"

"You mean, is it a date? Personally, I would think so. I suggest play it cool. I mean, Gale asked me to hang out one time, and it wasn't a date. You know, before me were dating. Just... follow his lead," she answers.

Groaning, I pluck a flower from the grass and twirl the stem. This is why I hate dating. Well, partly. Only most people would think I was pretentious if I told them the real reason, so I never do.

Dating implies that two people aren't serious. Well, I take that back. Gale and Madge are serious. Then again, they are boyfriend and girlfriend. But, really, how am I supposed to casually date Peeta when I've loved him for years? It feels like taking a step backwards. Also, the whole idea just seems a little superficial and cliche. I just want to be there with him through thick and thin. I realize, though, that none of this is in my control, so I'll just have to figure it out.

Maybe I'm scared that the Peeta I fell in love with is a lie. It's total bullshit, but I can't stop the thought from passing my mind. What if this wasn't the same Peeta who threw me the bread? What if I'm in love with... what else could I be in love with?

I'm no good with words. In fact, it amazes me how deeply I am in love and yet I can't even figure out the concept myself. I'd always thought we'd mutually fall in love under different circumstances. What if having mutual feelings isn't good enough?

Hours later I'm in my bed, under my covers. Sighing into my pillow, I steady myself for tomorrow, which brings nothing but uncertainty. But perhaps, a future with the boy with the bread, whatever that future may be.


	5. Let's Go, Peeta

On tuesday morning, I wake up to the sound of rain falling outside my window. Usually, the sound is relaxing, but as my jumbled thoughts become clearer and I slowly realize what today is, I jerk out of bed and put my head in my hands. I'm hanging out with Peeta. Alone. Quitely, I pad into the bathroom and splash warm water on my face. Gritting my teeth, I start making a bath for Prim. Mom says we're finally getting a shower next week, which is pretty exciting but now is not the time to dwell on it. I'm glad I washed last night because I honestly don't think I could hold myself together long enough to make another bath. I'm close to a nervous breakdown, and I know it.

I think of quickly meeting up with Madge before school, but 4 A.M. is not the time to knock down her door and beg for relationship advice. In fact, Madge is probably snoring deeply on her pillow, escaping to a dreamland where she and Gale live happily ever after.

She's such a hopeless romantic, even though she'd never admit it. I wish I was as easygoing and graceful as her. But no, I'm Katniss, who can't even figure out whether or not she's going out on a date.

_Katniss, get out of bed _I command myself. I force myself to look in my closet. My family is pretty poor, so it's not like I have a wide variety of outfits to choose from. But for once in my life, I actually do want to look nice. Why is this stuff so complicated? After twenty minutes of excruciating thinking, I settle on wearing a pair of jeans and a well fitted white quarter-sleeve shirt, made out of very soft fabric. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth thoroughly and pull my hair out of its braid. It actually looks very curly and styled. I decide to leave it down.

For shoes, I throw on a pair of leathor lace-up boots, which I don't normally wear to school. They're basically my hunting shoes, but they add a nice finishing touch to my look. By the time I'm all ready, it's 5:00 AM and I have about an hour before Mother and Prim wake up. More time is exactly what I don't need. Blood pulses in my ears and I feel sick; the nerves are seriously getting to me. I decide to do what always clears my mind: hunting. I pull on my hunting jacket and zip it up so I can't get my shirt stained. Then, I trot out in the woods.

By the time I'm done hunting, I've shot three squirrels. Is game always so available in the morning? Hauling the meat back home is a lot more painful than I thought, but at least dinner will be great tonight. When I find my way back in our shack, Mom is already up making eggs.

"Good morning, dear," she says as I tie the bag in knots and toss it in the corner. There's no point in trying to trade it at this hour; my best bet is that I can get Mom to take a trip to the hob later.

"Hey, Mom," I say, splaying my fingers out on the kitchen table. "I was just hunting," I add, because it's strange she didn't comment on the fact her daughter was out at five in the morning.

"I know. Did you catch a lot?" she asks as she cracks the eggs open. Watching the yellow yolk slide into the tiny glass bowl, I nod. The repetitive actions feels awfully relaxing as the morning stretches on: crack, drip. Crack, drip. Eventually, Mother grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the food as Prim sleepily enters the room, her nightgown barely covering her knees.

No one really speaks. All that fills the air is the sound of the frying pan and the bubbling yellow eggs. My stomach growls when she finally divides the scrambled eggs on three plates. I take my plate energetically, digging in right away.

Finally, Prim yawns and stretches, her blue eyes focusing on Mother's. "What time is it?"

Mother peeks at the clock. "6:30," she replies, scooping eggs in her mouth. "Eat quickly, girls. You don't want to be late for school."  
Ten minutes later Prim is frantically pushing through her closet. I shrug out of my leathor jacket. Mother looks surprised.

"You look nice," she comments, getting up from the table. "Are you going out?" she asks, because she knows me well enough to know there must be some sort of special occasion.

I consider telling her about Peeta. That's only fair, right? But I'm so confused about the situation and I really just need space, so I tell her, "Nothing really. I might hang out with Madge later." This technically isn't a lie, because I have no idea how long I will be with Peeta.

Hopefully, Prim's bath wasn't too cold (it had been out for a while). It takes another ten minutes before Prim emerges from her bedroom, wearing a very sweet pink dress with her hair in two braids. Even she gapes at my wardrobe choice. "Wow, Katniss. That's really pretty. And I like your hair down. It suits you," she says. I'm starting to feel like I'm overdressed.

As usual, I drop Prim off to her classroom and head up to mine. Gale and Madge are seated in the back, and I gladly take a seat next to them. Scanning the room, I feel relieved: no sign of Peeta yet. Hopefully, he won't confront me until after school, because I'm lacking the proper amount of mental preperation.

Even Madge notices I'm stressed. Then, she evaluates my appearance. "You look really pretty."

_Oh God._

I lay my head down on the desk and groan. "It's obvious, isn't it? It's way too obvious." Madge, knowing I'm referring to my dress choice, shakes her head.

"No, it's just different. Calm down! You're getting too worked up." In order to calm me, she grabs my hand and squeezes. Gale, the great friend he is, laughs.

"Katniss, calm down," he says in the most condescending way ever. I almost bring up the fact that he had a nervous breakdown before his first date with Madge, but I don't. Instead, I shoot him a death glare and try to control my breathing.

In an instant, my lungs contract and it's my turn to gawk at the blonde boy entering the room. He doesn't notice me as he takes his seat. He looks _great_. Great may not be the best word, but I can't possibly describe it. He's decked out completely casually: jeans, a button down shirt, dress shoes. His hair is really messy, and he looks _hot. _Madge seems to notice, too, because she's grinning at me and arching her eyebrows. Gale is completely oblivious as he opens his textbook and starts studying for today's quiz.

The school day goes by quickly, much to my dismay. Time has never been my friend. Anticipation builds in my stomach as the final bell rings. I think I might throw up.

Instantly, Peeta turns around and locks eyes with me instantly. He likes what he sees- I can tell. This makes me nervous, excited, even a little confident, all rolled into one. Striding to my desk, he never breaks his gaze. He grabs my hand. "Let's go, Katniss."

A smile forms on my lips. "Let's go, Peeta."


	6. Frosting and Kisses

Peeta's hand is warm on mine as we leave the building. We're silent as we walk out the door. Finally, when we're on the paved sidewalk and sunshine is soaking our bodies, he smiles sweetly at me. "You look beautiful, Katniss."

I blush uncontrollably, which he seems to find attractive. "You happen to look fine yourself," I say, the words feeling more relaxed coming out of my mouth.

He shrugs. "I can't help that I'm naturally gorgeous, Kat," he jokes, his hand gripping on mine tighter. I love his easygoing sense of humor. He's pretty easy to talk to, even for a girl like me who can't make conversation to save her life.

"You wish," I remark, and he laughs. We navigate our way through the crowds of moving bodies, moving at a fast but steady pace. He fills our trip with more tales of his family, and I find myself lost in his words, in his stories. A part of me aches to be in some of them, and I realize how wierd this is, that I'm actually talking to him. The whole walk, I feel like I'm in a dream-like state, with no voices trying to pull me back to reality. The butterflies never leave my stomach.

A half an hour later he opens the door to his family's bakery and lets me in, first. I almost sigh with relief when I see his mother's not here-instead, his father works the counter, his apron covered in flour.

"Do you wanna bake?" Peeta asks me, his eyes glinting under the fluoresecent store lights. "There's not much to do in District 12. It took me forever to figure something out," he laughs, his fists curling up at his sides.

I can't help but smile. "What are you talking about? Everyone knows District 12 is the social hot spot," I say. After his laughter dies down, I ask, "What are we making?"

He leads me into the kitchen and throws me an apron, which I catch precariously on my fingertips. "Put that on," he instructs.

"Yes, sir," I comply, throwing the white fabric over my shirt and messily tying it in the back. Once that's settled, I ask, "Now what?"

He brings out two silver trays and places them on the counter. Then, he puts a mound of cookie dough on a plate and puts it in the middle of us. "Now, we shape the cookies," he says. I grab some of the soft, stretchy stuff in my hands and spread it out on my tray. Carefully, I attempt to make a tree.

Casually, I glance over to see what he's working on. He's shaped one so far, and it's brilliant. He made a deer, and it's completely detailed. He sees me gaping at his work and grins.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I huff. "Mine sucks," I point at the brown, lumpy dough occupying my tray. It's the most pathetic looking tree ever. "I failed, Chef Mellark."

Laughing, his fingers make their way onto my dough. He molds it carefully, every small detail defined. Finally, he reveals a tree with brances and a trunk. "Hey, at least I could figure out your intentions. You deserve a pat on the back for that one."

Patting my back, I stick my tongue at him and continue to work. I decide to just make ordinary, round-shaped cookies. When I'm done, I stare at his platter. He's done, too. He did a few more complex shapes, but then he did mostly plain ones, just like me.

We transition into pleasant conversation has he bakes the cookies. The bakery is very hot, a combination of the eighty degree weathor outside and the oven. We're both casually sprawled across the tiled floors when the oven beeps.

After taking the cookies out, we start the frosting. He frosts in such a detailed, designed way: more like a painter. Me, I spread solid colors smoothly on the warm surfaces. It really is grueling work. Finally, when they're done, I collapse in exhaustion.

"You're_ tired_?" he asks, his voice ringed with disbelief. Shrugging, I sit up in the chair.

"Shut up. I'm not used to this," I laugh. He just smiles and shakes his head.

Eating the cookies is the best part. They taste so sweet, I groan. His eyebrows arch as I lose myself in the sweet smell of the cookies.

"They're good?" he asks. I nod. These taste so much better than the food I'm used to having. In fact, I don't think I've ever had anything so satisfying.

We eat in comfortable silence. I grin and wipe frosting off his cheek, feeling his muscles move as he smiles. I take a huge bite of a pink heart-shaped cookie and get frosting all over my mouth.

"Let me take care of that for you," he says, leaning in. This is where we have our first kiss. His lips are incredibly sweet and are slick from the icing. I can't even describe the hunger I feel as I tangle my fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him closer.

He breaks the kiss and studies my facial expression. "What are you thinking?" he asks, his lips still shiny.

"I'm not good with words," I blush, his face inches from mine. There is a long pause before he tucks a strand of my hair behind my hear.

"We'll have to work on that."


End file.
